


through the dark, reaching for me now

by callaina



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dogs, First Meetings, Fluff, Fuuinjutsu Master Umino Iruka, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Time Skip, Strangers to Lovers, Vignette, seals master Iruka, silly kitchen dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26445079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callaina/pseuds/callaina
Summary: The first time Iruka meets Hatake Kakashi he is decidedly not awestruck.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 15
Kudos: 265





	through the dark, reaching for me now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [menecio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/menecio/gifts).



> title from Alexi Murdoch's ["Through the Dark"](https://open.spotify.com/track/0X8RCllTfjMdxdriSDAMUN?si=sxrNpyFXQvmNL9bFk3FzKw)

The first time Iruka meets Hatake Kakashi he is decidedly not awestruck.

He has heard the rumors of course, rumors that really aren’t worth repeating. And to be honest, yes, he’s seen him before, or rather his gravity-defying hair that acts like a lighthouse even on the busiest days in Konoha. But the first time he actually meets the man, Iruka’s head is brimming with disappointment over a recently failed mission, worry over his impending academy exam that will decide whether he is fit to be appointed as a teacher, and frustration over the Sandaime’s unparalleled obstinacy and his sheer denial about the need for a renewed orphanage system.

He sits down on a park bench and sighs. Iruka doesn’t allow himself many moments of melancholy, keeps himself on a strict schedule and monitors his stress by how long it has been since he last had a home cooked meal, and only when the answer to that is  _ your mother would have a heart attack if she knew _ , Iruka goes to this exact bench. He chose it because never has he seen someone sit there,  _ and _ for how close it is to the memorial stone since contrary to popular opinion people don’t like to linger there for longer than they have to. He goes, sits down, and lets his head run wild.

This time, though, he is not alone.

“That’s a sigh if I ever heard one.”

Iruka cannot help it, he was so stuck in his thoughts, building a castle out of his fear, and doubt and resentment, that he flinches when he hears the voice. When he looks up, Hatake Kakashi stands in front of him, smiling beneath his mask and points to the free space next to Iruka. “Mind if I sit there?”

Iruka stares. Kakashi is close enough that Iruka can see the places where his jounin vest has been sliced through and stitched back up again with a needle and thread. He wonders at that – surely a jounin could afford a new vest instead of patching an old one when the stuffing threatened to spill out? But then he remembers that Kakashi is still standing in front of him and Iruka nods.

Kakashi tilts his head and sounds dejected when he speaks. “You do mind?”

Oh. “No!” Iruka hastily says and gestures at the place next to him.

Kakashi sits down and Iruka cannot help but sneak glances at him. His hitaiate rests over the cursed eye, the Sharingan, and doesn’t stop there but covers every inch of what Iruka suspects is scarred skin.

“What’s bothering you, sensei?”

His tone is both placid and unbothered, a metaphor for how he could be anywhere in the world right now, and still chose to sit down next to Iruka.

“Um,” Iruka starts, his gaze flickering back and forth, not quite wrapping his head around the fact that he’s having a conversation with Hatake Kakashi. He wants to tell him that he’s not a teacher yet but what comes out is this: “I mean no offense, Hatake-san, but have we met?”

Kakashi frowns at the honorifics and turns towards Iruka. Iruka shrinks back a little under the scrutiny, and wills his face to stay a normal color although he can feel the warmth seeping into his cheeks. “Not formally, but I have seen you before, Iruka-sensei.”

Iruka blinks. Why would Kakashi see him, know his name? He is sure that their paths haven’t crossed, not even at the Tower when Iruka was having tea with the Third, and he’s but a chuunin. Don’t get him wrong, Iruka doesn’t feel self-conscious over the fact, knows that he could have, would have made a greater rank if that was what he wanted. But Iruka wants to teach.

The words are out before he can stop himself. “I shouldn’t be bothering you.” Iruka looks away from Kakashi’s face that is far too expressive for how much of it is hidden away.

“Maa, I came here seeking you out after all,” Kakashi says and leans back on the bench. “And look at me, I’m bothering your bench. I think that makes us even.”

Iruka almost laughs at this. So many rumors and none have prepared him for how weird Hatake Kakashi is. Instead, he schools his face into an expression of incredulity, not sure whether the jounin is being genuine.

“You sought me out? Why?”

Kakashi turns his hands over, looking down at his palms, the gloves that have seen better days, too. Iruka narrows his eyes, trying to make out whether that lighter patch sticking to them really is dog fur or if his mind is just playing tricks on him.

“I wanted to know what it’s like, being in your presence.” And Iruka cannot even begin to understand Kakashi’s nonchalance for he knows a sentence like that would have taken Iruka at least four drinks to stutter out.

“Oh.” It’s all he can say. And then, Iruka laughs in earnest, blushing.

Kakashi crosses one leg over the other, resting his chin in his hand, elbow on his knee. He’s looking at Iruka from the side. “So, sensei, one more of those desperate sighs and I’m afraid I have to use an extraction technique or two if you won’t spill it yourself.”

Well, Iruka thinks. Well.

“I keep thinking about this mission…”

~*~*~

In the middle of march, Iruka lifts his head from where he is pouring over his textbooks, studying for his teaching exam. Small flocks of white drift down from the sky and make their peaceful way past his window. A few flakes settle down on his windowsill and Iruka struggles to keep his face neutral like he's never taught a class full of jesters before. It is snowing! In Konoha!

Although the cold rushes at him, he extricates himself from the kotatsu and runs towards the window, eyes wide. He feels like a student on their first day of school, nervous excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach, and he rocks onto the point of his toes to get a better look at the streets below. It doesn’t seem like the snow will actually stay for long but Iruka lets himself be gripped by the giddiness that makes his fingers tingle, his mouth curl up into a smile, his nose crinkle, and hurries to the bedroom.

There, at the bottom of his drawer, he finds a maroon scarf. In the kitchen, he checks his pantry situation with one eye closed because maybe this will make it look less bad but as with most things in life, this coping mechanism doesn’t actually work to make Iruka less embarrassed at the lack of items that aren’t instant ramen.

Konoha never gets snow and as soon as he steps out of the building he marvels up at the sky, blinking. The cold breeze stings where it hits Iruka’s exposed skin and he burrows deeply into the scarf. It smells a little of lavender from the dried sprigs he keeps in his dresser so there’s no chance of moths gnawing holes into the fabrics. His hands burrow deeply into the pockets of his slacks and for once he’s glad to have kept his hair untied, as it frames his face and protects it a little against the biting air.

In April, the new term will start.

In April, parents who aren't on missions will take their children to the park behind the Academy and take pictures of them under the cherry trees, the green buds giving way to pink blossoms. In April, the Academy will welcome a new year of promising students into its halls and Iruka will greet the children and guide them on their way to becoming shinobi, or help them decide on a different path.

It rarely snows in Konoha. The last time Iruka has seen weather like this must have been around four or five years ago, or scratch that– on the mission that took him up the mountainside and had him camp out in a cave for a week when his team got stuck in a storm. When he came back from it, nothing could keep Iruka warm for weeks. He was freezing every night he fell asleep before he sewed heating seels into his duvet. This, at last, dispelled the chill out of his bones.

A chill that he suddenly worries might return. Iruka tugs the scarf around his face, tightens it, and hastens to the grocery store. If he is lucky, his favorite brand of chocolate will be on sale so that he can make a cup of hot cocoa as soon as he returns. With this at the back of his mind he steadies a man next to him who threatens to slip on the icy streets (in spring!), walks on as he waves off the stranger's profuse thanks with an awkward smile and promptly runs into a wall.

A wall that turns out to be no other than Kakashi.

For a moment he stands frozen to the spot, his fingers splayed across Kakashi's vest that's not the jounin vest at all, no, it's a midnight blue jacket that looks so  _ so  _ warm, and one of Kakashi's hands on his shoulder, the other above his hip. The heat of his touch seeps through Iruka's clothes. Iruka stares at him, his lips slightly parted in surprise, and completely taken in by the grey of Kakashi's eye. It's light, and captivating, and Iruka thinks there's more of that snow drifting in the color.

"Sensei, are you alright?"

Iruka barely startles but it's there and Kakashi's smile, even under his mask, leaves Iruka feeling strangely caught. He takes an immediate step back but Kakashi keeps his hand on his shoulder. "Yes! Yes, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking ahead. I didn't hurt you, did I?" Iruka hears himself ramble, his ears warming up. At least his hair is there to cover them.

Kakashi keeps smiling. "It would take a lot more for you to hurt me, sensei."

The answer takes him aback. "Do you think me weak?"

Kakashi's visible eye widens. The other one is uncovered but safely closed. "That you think so little of me! Of course I don't. In fact, you are one of the strongest shinobi I know."

Iruka struggles with Kakashi's expression and resists the urge to avert his gaze. He takes another step back, wants to move past him. The store is right around the corner. "Please don't mock me, Kakashi-san."

The hand on his shoulder falls off and just when Iruka thinks that this encounter is over, already trying to forget, humiliation burning in his chest, Kakashi grips his hand. "Sensei, wait." Iruka looks back up.

Kakashi's eyebrows are knit together. He seems confused at Iruka's reaction. "I'm sorry if it sounded wrong and I know you have little reason to put trust into my words, but I wasn't lying. You are clever, caring, and don't give up, and Konoha's future generations will be stronger for it."

Iruka knows his face must look like a tomato but he cannot tear his eyes away from Kakashi. "I..." he starts but trails off without ever learning what his mind wanted to say. Kakashi's undivided attention lies on him and he can feel the man's hopeful glance in how he the grip on his palm hasn't lessened a bit, if anything it got tighter. "Thank... thank you, Kakashi-san. I'm not sure what to say," Iruka mutters except that he'd like to tell Kakashi to never let go of his hand, ever. Not to look away from him, no matter how much Iruka wants to hide.

Kakashi visibly relaxes and draws Iruka's hand up between them, the tips of his fingers ghosting over Iruka's palm. "You're freezing."

Iruka still feels a little weak at whatever just happened and fixes his glance at their point of contact. As if Kakashi's words reminded him of their surroundings, a shudder runs through Iruka. "I have never been good with the cold." And he isn't lying. He blames it on the fact that his parents weren't natives to Konoha but to a land far warmer, even if Konoha has mild weather, too.

It happens faster than Iruka's flustered brain can register: Kakashi forms the seals for a fire jutsu and blows hot breath onto his own palms, through the fabric of his mask, fire barely forming. He reaches out, then, and asks: "May I?"

Iruka simply nods, thinking that Kakashi will take his hands again, and yes, he would like that very much for reasons other than simply warming up, but then two hands cup his cheeks and Iruka almost passes out. Somewhere along the conversation Kakashi lost his gloves (whendidthathappen) and Iruka gives a sigh at the feeling (so! warm!), while he flushes all over.

His eyes flutter shut and they stand there, for who knows how long. Iruka's heart beats rapidly in his chest, he can but feel his pulse throb at a rabbit's pace, his heart about to tumble out of his mouth. How can something so simple feel so good? Iruka opens his eyes, and swallows at Kakashi's pleased expression, the skin above his mask tinged a slight pink.

"Better?"

"Yes," Iruka barely whispers. Kakashi smiles.

~*~*~

The world is seemingly out of kilter when ANBU comes and rushes him to the Academy building where Iruka knows the chuunin preliminaries are held. Iruka was right about it all from the beginning, how Kakashi should have never let Team Seven compete to begin with. But with the masked shinobi next to him there’s not a single part that feels validated or satisfied at finding his concerns confirmed. Instead, there is terror at what will wait for him when he arrives.

Kakashi looks at him like it physically pains him and Iruka wants to cry, he honestly does, but then he sees Sasuke, sitting on the floor with his back to them, skin of it exposed, scratched, bruised and… marked. With a curse. The boy is unconscious and Iruka steps towards Kakashi.

“What do you want to do?”

Kakashi takes a moment to answer, blinks against what Iruka assumes are sentiments stirring in him, and then with a voice that is but a rasp answers: “I don’t know, Iruka.”

And there he is, the Kakashi that no one ever gets to see, the one that is out of his depths, the one that is overwhelmed and makes mistakes. The one that looks more like a child than a grown shinobi, perhaps because he never got to be the former and never had a chance to nurture what needed nurturing.

Iruka isn’t mad. He was mad when he yelled at Kakashi in front of the Hokage and he hates the shame that rises at the memory, hates that rank matters more than actual knowledge, but it was Kakashi who sought him out a few days after, when they both had time to cool off. They apologized for the way they spoke to each other. Iruka didn’t back off from his stance but acknowledged that, of course, he was bringing emotions into this whereas Kakashi admitted that he didn’t know what was right or wrong, and that a part of him bristled at how obviously Iruka cared for his former students when no one had ever cared for him.

Iruka couldn’t be mad for this much honesty. And Iruka isn’t mad now.

So he takes Kakashi not by touch but with a stern tone that means business and Kakashi melts into the familiar mission speech. He recounts what has happened and Iruka ignores the nausea that rises at Orochimaru’s name, remembers Anko’s thrashing and screaming at night when they were housed together in the orphanage, and takes in the information.

He gestures at the low table and the tools strewn across it. Maybe Kakashi didn’t know what to do but he  _ has  _ planned something. “What are you thinking?”

Kakashi looks at Sasuke, stares at the mark as if he could carve it out of the boy’s skin with his will alone.

“The curse will begin rewriting his whole system. It will feed on his grief until it corrodes his mind. I don’t know how to remove it so I began preparing for the evil sealing method until…”

Kakashi freezes. It takes him the better part of a minute to get speaking again. Iruka runs through the variables in his head as he waits.

“He was here, Iruka. I told him he’d have to kill him before he lays another hand on Sasuke but we both knew I’m no match for him.”

Iruka knows Kakashi is talking about Orochimaru even without dropping the name. A chill runs through him at the thought of finding Kakashi’s body, dead, and Sasuke gone but they’re here, they’re both here. He treats it like a mantra as he gets to work.

“With the evil sealing method, all it does is put a seal  _ over _ the seal. It was created for short stretches of time and not for a permanent solution. We need to extricate the mark from his body.”

When Kakashi looks up, he seems more focused. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Iruka rests his bag next to the table and begins pulling forward sheets of chakra paper and ink. “Well, I do.”

A rustle, and then Kakashi stands next to him. Iruka’s hands don’t falter although Kakashi’s attention rests on him wholly. It makes his skin prickle and hairs stand on end but he doesn’t shake, doesn’t tremble.  _ This _ is why the Third wanted him to make tokubetsu, this is why the Third had wanted him to go into special training to become a specialized ANBU delegate. The memory of his own stubborn refusal echoes through Iruka’s head and the strokes of the brush come to him as easy as water to a river.

“How?” Kakashi asks. Iruka keeps at the kanji, his tongue pressing against the roof of his mouth in concentration. For a second, he thinks Kakashi is asking how he perfected the calligraphy that lies in fuuinjutsu but at the edge of his vision he notices that Kakashi is staring at him, with the Sharingan wide open. “How do you know what removes a curse mark?”

“You know Mitarashi-san. Who do you think removed hers?”

Seals have always come easy to Iruka. In the early days of studying them they have rewarded him with an anchor that kept his feet aground when all he wanted was to run. And later, when his literacy grew, they posed him with enough riddles to challenge himself, to grow. As some shinobi threw themselves into missions, Iruka found comfort in the new language he was trying to learn, a language that had long been dying but patiently waited for a speaker.

The trick to Anko’s curse seal was that Orochimaru had sealed a part of his own chakra not only into the seal (because then, in technicality, the mark could have been cut out of her skin or cut through to make the jutsu nonfunctioning) but moreover, Orochimaru had found a way for the seal to migrate his chakra into the recipient’s chakra pathways. Iruka had worked day and night, testing out theories, before one of his genin teammates was poisoned with a simple senbon and Iruka realized that Anko wasn’t far off from poisoning, too. She was quite literally suffering from chakra poisoning: Orochimaru’s chakra was foreign to Anko’s body  _ and  _ it was vile enough to start writing over her own pathways. And as the source of the toxin had essentially been transplanted into Anko’s body, the source still  _ there _ , Iruka figured that the only way to get it out would be back through it.

Sealing the curse mark doesn’t help. A controlled release, however… Iruka rationalizes whether Sasuke has to be awake for this, hashes the equation out in his head because he very much would like Sasuke  _ not _ to be awake for this, and grits his teeth when he realizes he has to start over, again. It takes him four sheets of paper before Iruka is satisfied, and Kakashi’s warmth presses in on him all the while, his presence loud despite the man being so quiet.

He pulls a scroll out of his bag and walks over to where Sasuke sits, his head hanging low. There’s a deep-rooted pain and frustration in seeing another orphan being failed by Konoha that rises in Iruka whenever he looks at Sasuke, because no matter how hard he tries Iruka’s company and care alone won’t stop what’s stirring in the boy.

He unrolls the scroll in front of Sasuke and reveals it as an empty vessel. The chakra Orochimaru forced onto him needs a new container.

“It’s better to do this right now than later. Can you hold him still? He might start to come up from the force of it.” Iruka looks up at Kakashi who kneels next to Sasuke and startles. That’s how sudden the realization comes that Kakashi must know a similar pain: The Sharingan too is foreign matter that mingles with his own natural chakra. And yet, the rumors keep on concocting a cold-blooded, ruthless persona out of Kakashi and an anger that Iruka has harbored since his parents died starts seeping out of the places Iruka had sealed shut like he has taught himself to do since he was a child.

Kakashi must see it on his face for he draws back just an inch as Iruka snatches the seal from the table and forces air into his lungs. He places it over the mark so reminiscent of the tomoe he has seen rotating in Kakashi’s eye that it fuels his anger anew. But he breathes. Iruka breathes.

“My chakra will trigger the seal to activate. It’s going to purge him of Orochimaru’s and it will happen quite fast. Don’t let go of Sasuke,” he tells Kakashi and waits until he gives an affirmative before Iruka’s right hand alights with the familiar blue of his life force and gently, gingerly, he places a hand on Sasuke’s shoulder, right over the seal.

Sasuke gasps like he’s been underwater all this time and not merely unconscious, and then he screams. Kakashi’s muscles strain under his hold on the child, and Sasuke screams and screams while Orochimaru’s chakra is gutted from his small body. Iruka curses at his own watering eyes as Sasuke passes out again.

The chakra that comes forward wears a filthy color and Iruka directs it onto the scroll that waits for a new inhabitant. When it is done, when not a single drop of it spills out of Sasuke anymore, the scroll rolls itself shut.

Iruka peels the seal from Sasuke’s shoulder with shaking fingers. He doesn’t know when the tears start spilling over but they fall down his cheeks as he looks at the blank patch of skin.

Exhaustion wears him down and to the ground. There are medical nins waiting outside the hall, he knows, but Iruka’s tongue doesn’t want to move. Maybe ANBU has a Yamanaka with them because as soon as he thinks it, a team comes rushing in.

Strong hands reach under his arms, and he is lifted up onto his feet, too tired to be shy over how much he leans into the body that supports him. Iruka’s eyes are closed as fingers wipe away the remnants of tears from his face, and it’s Kakashi’s voice that says in a low timbre: “You are remarkable.”

Iruka wants to laugh but he’s too tired for that, too. He wants to go and sleep forever but he has to report back to the Hokage. He doesn’t reckon on Kakashi to keep an arm around him the whole way there, however, and just as they walk up the stairs to the ground floor of the Tower, having taken the underground system flanked by ANBU, Iruka stops short.

Kakashi is immediately alerted.

“Iruka?”

Iruka lifts his eyes from where they were trained on the ground and meets Kakashi’s concerned eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Kakashi tilts his head, looking bewildered. “For what?”

“None of this is your fault. It’s never been your fault.”

Kakashi stares at him before he averts his gaze. “Sensei, let’s get you to the Hokage.”

But Iruka drives his heels into the ground and refuses to move, not until Kakashi hears him out. He points a finger at Kakashi, jabbing it at Kakashi’s vest. “You are a good shinobi and you are a good person.”

Kakashi still doesn’t look at him but Iruka sees him swallow. “Alright, sensei.”

He is steered forward.

“You are good,” Iruka reminds him one last time.

Kakashi’s hold tightens.

~*~*~

Senju Tsunade becomes the Godaime Hokage of Konohagakure. She has a gambling habit, yes, and might be an alcoholic, true, and she has an undeniable, rageful temper. But she is one of the strongest women Iruka has ever met and it’s not because of her taijutsu mastery, but because of the way she constantly walks the tightrope under the council’s spiteful, watchful eyes, disregarding their oppressive views whenever she can.

There is a new scar on Iruka’s back. Iruka doesn’t think about it much because Naruto is alive and talks his ears off about his newest missions whenever they meet. Often, he is accompanied by the rest of Team Seven and often, Iruka’s small apartment is filled up to the brim with the voices of those he cares most about.

It’s a day like any other when Kakashi does the dishes in Iruka’s kitchen. Iruka is put on drying duty while Sasuke, Sakura and Naruto nap in the living room after their lunch consisting of home cooked shoyu ramen.

When he’s done, Kakashi shakes out his hands to get rid of the excess water and turns around to spray him, which startles an affronted sputter out of Iruka and a laugh out of Kakashi. And while he chases after him and flicks the kitchen towel at the man, Iruka comes to the conclusion that he’s been in love with Kakashi for a long time.

It’s a peaceful thought, really. Iruka’s neither scared, nor shocked. He doesn’t want to go and shout it from the rooftops, and doesn’t plan on telling Kakashi sometime soon. But he feels warm from head to toe because for now he knows: He’s in love with Hatake Kakashi.

~*~*~

Iruka lets himself into the Hatake estate, ready to call out for Kakashi that he’s here with the groceries and sake, but the noise coming from somewhere in the house distracts him. He toes off his sandals at the genkan and inches along the hallway.

The sunset paints the floor and walls in its evening colors and Iruka senses the warmth under the soles of his feet where the sun rested its rays for a while.

The noise comes from the kitchen, he thinks, and the nearer he draws, the clearer a picture he gets. Then, he stands in the kitchen’s doorway.

Kakashi’s singing to the dogs.

At first, he doesn’t even make out the words because he is rooted to the spot, staring at the scene in front of him. Iruka has met the pack a while ago because when Kakashi moved back into the compound he started having them around more and more beyond missions. Iruka guesses it’s the company – even though he helped Kakashi clear up the space and sort through old furniture remnants of his clan, the house is still filled to the brim with ghosts of a time where Kakashi wasn’t the sole member of his family.

Shiba is standing on his hindlegs as Kakashi holds his front paws in his hands and sways him back and forth, crooning words that make little sense at him. A wide array of half-cut vegetables creates a colorful image on the worktop next to them and whatever simmers on the stove smells so exquisite and hearty, Iruka’s stomach almost grumbles.

Kakashi is dressed in nothing but a white shirt and striped boxers. His bare feet match his bare face. Iruka would have the decency to blush (not that he hasn’t seen Kakashi like this before because he sleeps at odd hours and generally contradicts many social norms and oh, Kakashi has absolutely no problem pulling down his mask when it’s just Iruka around him) if he weren’t utterly entranced by the rosy tinge high on Kakashi’s cheeks, and the smile that accompanies it.

Bisuke is a scattered mess; he hops and jumps up at Kakashi’s legs and barks, overexcited at seeing his human in high spirits and Kakashi laughs, releases Shiba and bends down to ruffle through the mutt’s fur at the top of his head. He looks so young in that moment that Iruka cannot, in any way at all, imagine how Kakashi has shouldered the weight of the world so long without defecting but as his thoughts turn bleak, a wet snout comes up to his palm and nuzzles into it. Iruka blinks and the darkness shrinks back to where it belongs, smiles a quiet thanks at Bull, the ever-present gentle giant. He turns his gaze back to Kakashi.

Kakashi notices him, then.

Iruka backs off because he sees what’s coming, sees that Kakashi’s smile turns to a mischievous grin as his eye lights up with a glint. He doesn’t have time to start protesting before Kakashi snatches up his wrist and pulls him further into the kitchen. Faintly, he hears music play in the background to which Kakashi was apparently singing along, but he’s more distracted with how Kakashi looks at him like he’s put the damn sun up into the sky.

Iruka hopes the bottle of sake doesn’t break as he drops the bag of groceries. Kakashi’s grip on his wrist slides to his palm, and Iruka yelps helplessly as Kakashi twirls him around the kitchen floor.

“Kakashi!”

The dogs are more than elated at the two of them dancing even if Iruka refuses to call it so, even as he starts laughing when Kakashi attempts to dip him and they almost tumble to the ground. They do eventually end up in a heap when Iruka trips over Bisuke. He refuses to go down alone and paves the way for Kakashi’s demise. They’re still laughing as they try to make sense of their entangled limbs.

Kakashi looks at home. Iruka’s right hand found its way into the material of Kakashi’s shirt without his mind’s explicit approval but now that it’s there, he doesn’t want to let go. What he does want is to tell Kakashi that every part of Iruka has reached out for him since the day they met.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Kakashi says, breathless and flushed.

Iruka only shakes his head at him. Words sit right at the tip of his tongue, but he cannot take the plunge. He’s known it for so long but no matter his certainty, rivers always run colder than expected.

“Iruka?”

Iruka looks up and their gazes meet. “What is it?” Kakashi asks as he gently uncurls Iruka’s fist from his shirt and replaces it with his own hand. “What do you want to say?”

And Iruka suppresses a laugh because Kakashi might look bored most of the time but he’s the most perceptive person he knows.

“I know it’s selfish of me. You have your duty to the village. I have mine, too. But sometimes I wish that I could take you away from here until you see yourself the way I see you.” He’s gripping Kakashi’s hand tight, staring at his lap. “All I want is to spend the rest of my life by your side.”

Kakashi is quiet. He draws near until they are so close that their foreheads touch, and Iruka is overcome by a tidal wave that he closes his eyes against.

“I love you, Iruka. It would be my honor to stay by your side, too,” Kakashi says and Iruka hears him smile.

Their kiss feels like home.

**Author's Note:**

> alternatively titled the hummus fic because of a conversation born from Tom Rosenthal's song ["Big Pot of Hummus"](https://open.spotify.com/track/1chhmZwB28hrHqKdy2zFWp?si=x8ww19L8QLOIqkTH7tbPGQ). as always, thank you to Hazel for indulging in whatever it is that i do. badger, mir, 42, i love you. menecio, you big big big pot of hummus, you are so loved.


End file.
